


A Stark and a Tyrell

by Saraste



Series: Femslash February 2016 [28]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Character Study: Margaery, F/F, Femslash February, Margaery POV, Romance, Starcrossed verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery reflect. Then, when she's seventeen, she runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stark and a Tyrell

**Author's Note:**

> I have complicated feeling as regards this fic, as I'm not sure if it'll fit this verse properly (I somehow think it contradicts some earlier stuff?) but I did think in the beginning that at least Margaery had gone to Beaubatons. I just need to get my timelines straight and go from there.

 

Margaery is fourteen when her family moves back to Britain. They had fled Voldemort's reign of terror and she had begun her wizarding education at Beauxbatons, but, in the end, her parents had decided that they wanted to go back. Even with their French connections, the Tyrells were an old English wizarding family. Margaery and Loras had been given the option to choose if they wanted to finish their schooling in Beauxbatons or if they wanted to go to Hogwarts instead.

 

Loras had wanted to try Hogwarts, and so Margaery had needed to go, too, for she'd not attend a school without her brother. Loras had become friends with a Baratheon from Hufflepuff, while Margaery had skimmed through the hopefuls who wanted her to be their girlfriend, and had gathered a small group of friends.

 

Yet their family name kept them somewhat apart from the school at large, as did their not having started their schooling at Hogwarts.

 

Margaery was on her fifth year when she saw a girl sitting in a stone alcove, sun kissing her coppery hair, a small smile on the girls' face as she talked with a younger dark-haired girl, their kinship written on their faces if not their hair. The girl is very pretty.

 

Margaery keeps seeing the girl around, and finally finds out her name: Sansa Stark. Knows then that she should let it go, let it be. She was girlfriends with a red-haired Ravenclaw for some time, toward the end of her fifth year, but it didn't last. For the girl wasn't Sansa Stark.

 

She goes to her summer holidays with Sansa's name and face in her head, swirling about, mingling with her first summer back in Britain in… well, ever. She decides that she liked the summers of France more but doesn't mind unduly, as a visit over is among her summer memories.

 

Her sixth year starts and she… marches up to Sansa Stark during the first day and gives her a gift of poetry; a slim volume of Keats. Sansa is speechless, staring at her like she cannot comprehend what is happening, there is a blush creeping over her face as neither says a word. A gaggle of what are presumably girls from Sansa's year had been having a hushed conversation nearby. _'That's Margaery Tyrell!' 'Tyrell?' 'You know Tyrells? Didn't choose a side… France, she was in Beauxbatons…' 'But Sansa's a Stark!'_

 

'Thank you,' Sansa had said. A Stark directly talking to a Tyrell for the first time in generations under Hogwarts' roof. Margaery had felt like the walls should have crumbled and the roof to have caved in.

 

'I'm Margaery. Margaery Tyrell,' she'd introduced herself even when, by the look on Sansa's face, she wouldn't have needed to.

 

'Sansa. Stark.'

 

If Margaery didn't know who she was by now, she'd have been gutted right at that moment. But she'd simply smiled and left Sansa to wonder over the book.

 

There had been a lot of flowers, roses mostly, and a few hand-scribbled letters, until finally, _finally_ , Margaery and Sansa had kissed for the first time, an experience perfect in all it's memorable imperfections. 

 

For the next two school years they had been mostly inseparable, not caring for convention, or that they were a Stark and a Tyrell.

 

And then Margaery was seventeen and it all seemed to fall to pieces.  She's standing, alone, on Platform 9 ¾, not even seeing Sansa's receding back any more, and her heart is breaking.

 

'Margaery, it's time to go…' Loras tells her.

 

She doesn't want to listen.

 

She _runs_ , shaking away hands which would stop her, for it isn't over. They're not done. She runs, school-robes flying around her, out onto the London beyond 9 ¾, dragging her trunk.

 

For freedom and Sansa. 


End file.
